


Turn Backwards on Go

by inkwellofstars



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Humor, M/M, Snapshots, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 12:08:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8979097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkwellofstars/pseuds/inkwellofstars
Summary: In which Yuuri and Victor, happily married and retired, find themselves thrown into the past and proceed to mess with everyone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If only one of them had traveled back, this would probably be angst. Since both of them have, they're going to have fun.
> 
> This work will not have any particular order nor any semblance of a real plot.

“Oh my god, this can’t be real.”

Phichit looks up from his breakfast. Yuuri trips on his way out of the bathroom, eyes wide, hands clawing at his face. One of his slippers has fallen off, Phichit notes.

“Toast?” he offers.

“I- I need to get my phone. My phone—”

Phichit looks in the direction of Yuuri’s room for a moment, worried.

But there’s no screaming or crying, and the season hasn’t even started yet, so he shrugs and continues eating.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri had woken up this morning alone. Which by itself isn’t too strange. Victor often wakes up before him, goes to take the dogs for a walk or starts a pot of coffee.

The chiming by his ear, though. That’s different. He turns the alarm off absentmindedly, and curls up again with a contented sigh. His eyes wander to the other side of the room—

_Is that a poster of Victor?_

He blinks once, twice. Fumbles for his glasses, which aren’t to his left as they usually are _because there is nothing to put them on to his left._ His hand hits a wall. He winces.

When he finally gets them on, he gets a good look at his room. And then he checks his phone. And then he bolts to the bathroom.

A reflection of him in his early twenties looks back at him from the mirror. No wrinkles, no gray hair. So young. Too young. He pinches his arm, and stops breathing at the burst of pain.

 

* * *

 

Victor falls in the middle of a jump. Which he almost never does.

It wouldn’t be so worrying if he got up afterwards, but he stays face-down on the ice. Georgi and Mila skate next to him, prepared to help him up. The other skaters stop in the middle of practice and look on with worried expressions.

“I swear, Vitya, if you injure yourself before the season even starts, oh my god—”

Victor jumps up, grinning widely. “Yakov, you’re alive!”

“I- What?”

Victor skates to the edge of the rink and envelops Yakov in a bear hug over the wall. Yakov sputters into his chest, hands waving wildly.

“I’ve missed you so much. This is such a good dream.”

“Vitya!”

“Ah, even the voice sounds so real.”

“Georgi, oh my god, call 103. He must have hit his head—”

 

* * *

 

Yuuri eventually figures out Victor’s number.

No one really uses phone numbers to call anymore, okay, it’s completely understandable that it takes a while for him to get the right sequence of numbers in.

He breathes in and out carefully, fingers paused above the keyboard.

He sends a text:

 

          Hi this is Yuuri Katsuki

          Do you remember me?

 

Moments later, he gets a call.

He closes his eyes to the familiar sound of his husband’s voice, and finally relaxes against the headboard of his bed.

They talk for a long time. Phichit checks in on Yuuri, and only leaves when Yuuri promises he feels well enough to attend afternoon practice. Yakov has already sent Victor home, with strict orders to not show his face until he feels sane again.

Then, something suddenly occurs to him:

“Oh shit.”

Victor hums, reassuringly. “What is it?”

“I need to relearn my SP and FS, it’s been years, Celestino is going to kill me—” He groans as Victor laughs. “I bet you’ll be alright huh, since you’re a genius.”

“I’m hurt. But yes. Since I’m a genius.” Victor’s voice grows warm, and Yuuri’s heart flutters to the sound. “You’ll be alright.”

“Yeah. We’ll be alright.”

 

* * *

 

The first week, Celestino is worried. Yuuri flubs his jumps, forgets the entire sequence of his programs, manages to trip even on solid ground. He’s tempted to send him to the hospital.

But Yuuri gets better. His skating returns to how it was before—no, better than it was before.

His jumps are cleaner, his spins tighter. He skates with the kind of confidence that his skill deserves—the kind of confidence Celestino has always wished Yuuri had in his own abilities.

When Yuuri lands the quadruple Salchow perfectly for the third time in a row, Celestino crosses his arms and smiles widely, imagining the shine of a Grand Prix medal on his student’s chest.

The other competitors won’t see Yuuri coming.

 

* * *

 

The first week, Yakov is furious. Victor ignores his calls and sends him a single text:

 

          Have to do special practice :)

          Will be back in a week!

 

What special practice. The fool is just trying to slack off. He’s not getting any younger, this could be the season that the gold gets taken from him, is he taking any of this seriously?

But he comes back the next week, as promised. The other skaters look at him warily, whisper things like _Genius makes people a bit mad, sometimes_ or _Maybe the stress is getting to him._

Victor pretends not to hear, with that infuriating grin plastered on his face. He goes through portions of his programs. Yakov can see that things have been altered—the placement of an arm here, a part of the step sequence there—and observes, silently.

The other skaters are spellbound, starstruck fools all of them. Yakov forgets to shout at them to continue practicing until after Victor skates to the side of the rink.

“Your program got more convincing,” he says, begrudgingly. “It’s still not good enough to ensure that you remain at the top though.” His eyes narrow as Victor continues to grin. “You better not take any more days off.”

Victor laughs and agrees easily.

 

* * *

 

Everything feels slightly off in Victor's apartment. He reaches for his favorite mug, and it isn’t there. There is no rice in the kitchen, and he has the wrong brand of coffee. The case for their medals is missing all of Yuuri’s.

He stretches his arms and legs to cover the entirety of his too-large bed, and suddenly wishes Yuuri was here to tell him to move over.

He would call, but he knows Yuuri must be sleeping now in Detroit.

Makkachin pads over and jumps onto the bed. He nuzzles her face for a while, and scratches behind her ears.

Some things might not be so bad. And he knows he will see Yuuri soon.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri tries to fiddle with his ring, but of course it isn’t there. He sighs, and closes his eyes. It’s quiet in his room, and he thinks too much without Victor to distract him. He starts to wonder about the things they left behind, and the things they might change now.

For better or for worse.

Everything will be alright, he imagines Victor telling him. Somehow everything will be alright.

His mind conjures up the image of a Victor that doesn’t remember him or their years together, and he is suddenly grateful that they’re together in this strange yet familiar world.

He kisses his ring finger and pretends he can feel gold under his lips.

He wonders who will propose first this time, and can’t wait. He wants to be surprised.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and please leave a comment if you liked anything in particular!
> 
> Again, this has no order nor much plot and is really just 100% self-indulgence. No idea how many chapters this will have or exactly where it will go but hope you enjoy the ride with me haha.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains confusion, misunderstandings, and long-distance flirting.

Yuuri is a bit different, Phichit muses. He spends more time on his phone, calling someone Phichit knows can’t be any of his family members. Phichit is curious, but he doesn’t pry. His friend will tell him when he's ready, he knows.

Yuuri also has a new habit of looking at Phichit wonderingly, and saying the strangest things:

“This haircut suits you Phichit, you shouldn’t cut it any shorter.”

“In the future you should be careful with checking what Twitter account you’re posting to before you post something. Just in case.”

“Hamster hats might be a little too much.”

Yuuri is even stranger on the ice than off it. He watches a pair of younger skaters as he takes a water break with a wistful expression, and sighs, “Ah, to be young again.”

“Yuuri. You’re only twenty-two.”

“Oh. That’s right.”

And let’s not mention the time Yuuri landed a quadruple Salchow and proceeded to land it again and again, laughing like a lunatic. Phichit had looked at Celestino, hoping for someone to talk to about how strange Yuuri’s been, but gave up at the gleam in their coach’s eyes. Blinded by gold.

“Yuuri,” he finally broaches one night after practice, about a month before the Grand Prix starts. “Are you...okay?”

Yuuri hums as he takes out a beautiful casserole from their oven. Phichit spares a moment to sigh over the wonderful, delicious smell—

He shakes it off, and continues: “You’ve been different, lately. Are you stressed over the Grand Prix qualifiers? You shouldn’t you know. You’re an amazing skater, and you’re bound to qualify.”

Yuuri smiles, softly, as he sets a portion of casserole in front of Phichit.  “You’re a good friend, Phichit.”

Phichit ignores the casserole. Yuuri chuckles.

“I’m alright, Phichit. Promise. I think I’m going to surprise a lot of people this season.”

Yuuri’s eyes are sincere, so Phichit takes his plate. He thinks he sees Yuuri raise his hand to his mouth for a moment, but that observation gets drowned out by _When did you learn to cook like this Yuuri this is amazing marry me._

 

* * *

 

“This Japanese skater’s pretty good,” Yakov mentions one day. “Yuuri Katsuki. He seemed a bit inconsistent in previous years but he got gold at Skate America, out of nowhere.”

Victor is suspiciously silent. Yakov glances at him but Victor’s face is turned away from him.

No matter, it’s just like him to not take his competitors seriously. One day he will have a rude wakeup call and Yakov will reserve the right to say _I told you so._

He thinks he sees Victor’s shoulders shake for a moment, maybe.

He sighs and turns to leave. “Take a look at your competition, Vitya.”

Later on in practice, he wonders if his most accomplished—and most problematic—student is going through a mid-career crisis. Victor has taken to patting the younger skaters on the head and helping them with their jumps, as if indulging in some strange kind of paternal instinct.

Yuri growls when he tries that with him. Victor puts him in a one-armed hug and goes, _I forgot how small you were back then! How old are you now, sixteen?_

_Fourteen! And who are you calling small?_

Yakov massages his temples. Why couldn’t he have some quiet, obedient students. Why are the geniuses always so troublesome.

 

* * *

 

Yuri is pretty sure Victor is out of his mind. It’s not just his behavior on the rink, okay? He still skates as well as he usually does, if not better. And he’s a hell of a lot more helpful in his advice now, less _you know, there’s this kind of whoosh feeling when you go into the jump_ and more _pay attention to your height and shoulders._

...actually, that helpfulness in itself is suspicious.

After Victor’s sudden fall on the rink, Yuri was volunteered to take him home. By Mila, the traitor, because his apartment is also in that direction.

On their way to Victor’s apartment, the older skater seemed pretty normal, if a bit out of it.

But then he entered and was jumped by his poodle and burst into tears.

You’d think he hasn’t seen his dog in years. But no. It’s only been, what, five hours?

Yuri has never, _never_ seen Victor Nikiforov cry. Seeing those tears filled him with such sudden horror that he fled the apartment without saying goodbye.

He’s heard Mila and Georgi trying to explain Victor’s changes:

“He’s on his phone more, now. That might be part of it,” Mila suggests, leaning against the lockers while scrolling down her Twitter feed.

“It has to be a secret lover,” Georgi goes, hands dramatically clasped over his chest. “Oh the power of love! It can change any man!”

“Does he look like he’s getting lai—” At this, Mila glances at Yuri and backtracks. “We would be able to tell if he’s been seeing someone. You know how Victor trains. There’s no time.”

“Maybe an old flame?”

A betting pool starts to circulate among the skaters under Yakov. The most popular theory is that Victor is continuing a relationship with a lover from his junior days. Some even suggest that it’s Christophe Giacometti. The second most popular is that he hit his head too hard last month and it caused a personality change.

When asked, Yuri says, “It could be both! I don’t care!”

Even if he’s crazy now, it’s not like it affects his skating.

 

* * *

 

Victor smiles at his phone screen as he eats lunch at a restaurant near the rink. Yuuri nails a flawless quadruple Salchow, and from his earbuds he hears a commentator, shocked, say _I definitely didn’t expect this from Katsuki, going from his previous record._

The camera zooms in on Yuuri’s euphoric face, and Victor can feel the corners of his mouth lift. Even after so many years, Yuuri’s skating never fails to capture his attention. It is still the most beautiful he has ever seen.

The score is announced. Yuuri looks into the camera and winks. His heart trembles in his chest.

He glances to his left and pretends not to notice the heads that quickly turn away from him. Mila and Yuri, he thinks. And some of the other skaters behind them at another table. How interesting.

“Check please,” he calls, still smiling.

 

* * *

 

“He was talking in Russian. Cross Giacometti off the list.”

 

* * *

 

“Does Victor know Japanese? No? But—”

 

* * *

 

“Maybe it’s different people.”

“No. You mean—”

“Well, he _is_ a celebrity.”

 

* * *

 

“Put Giacometti back on the list.”

 

* * *

 

Victor has a lot of trouble keeping a blank expression around his rinkmates, nowadays. But he has a lot of practice, and manages somehow.

“They really aren’t as subtle as they think they are. Honestly, I’m flattered but four is a bit much don’t you think—”

Yuuri laughs, and laughs, and nearly falls off his chair.

“You’re not finding some pretty young thing on the side, are you?” Victor shivers at the teasing tone of Yuuri’s voice. His husband’s eyes are bright behind his glasses, suppressed laughter in the curve of his mouth.

“Hmmm, I’m pretty sure you’re the pretty young thing,” Victor replies, leaning towards his phone. “How lucky I am.”

He can see a blush spreading over Yuuri’s cheeks, and wishes he could feel the heat of that blush against his fingers.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri watches the Cup of China with Phichit over dinner—grilled chicken and greens over rice. Nutritious enough for two training athletes, but good enough that Phichit sighs and asks for seconds.

They’re just about finished when Victor finally skates onto the rink, so breathtakingly beautiful in his _Stammi Vicino_ outfit. He starts to skate, and Yuuri can see parts that have been changed—parts that suggest the presence of a second skater by Victor’s side.

Victor ends his program with his mouth pressed against his right hand. Yuuri smiles at the television screen, and fiddles again with his non-existent wedding ring, his thumb brushing against nothing but skin. In the Kiss & Cry, Victor blows a kiss to the camera.

_What a ridiculous romantic even after all these years._

“Excited to compete against Victor?” He turns. Phichit’s eyes are thoughtful, considering. “You’re usually more nervous this time in the season, but you’re smiling.”

“Yeah. I can’t wait.”

Phichit hums. “You're going to give him competition."

 

* * *

 

“If I win you’re cleaning the apartment.”

“We don’t even live together yet. You can’t make me clean your apartment.”

“My home’s still your home!” Yuuri chuckles at the childish tone of Victor’s voice.

“Anyway I’m going to win. And I think I’ll need a prize from you when I do.”

“Ohhh. A prize?” Victor’s voice goes low and soft against his ear. Yuuri shivers, remembering what that voice means.

“You’ll see.”

“And if I win?”

“Guess you can get a prize from me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and do leave a comment below if you liked it! 
> 
> Happy Holidays, for those of you who celebrate it. (And Happy Victor's Birthday to the rest of you!)
> 
> This is, again, entirely self-indulgent to the point that I have to smile when I'm writing it. And again, it still fails to deliver on the organization+plot front.
> 
> The next chapter will take much longer haha, esp since I have to work on my other fic. (But this is seriously such fun to write.)
> 
> Minor Edit: Changed ref to Yuuri's age from 23 to 22


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More misunderstandings. The GPF starts. Yakov deserves a vacation.

Georgi can’t stand it anymore. Victor’s a good rinkmate and a good man, but crimes against the ideals of love cannot be endured. Out of all the skaters here, he’s known Victor the longest. It’s up to him to bring Victor back to reason.

Perhaps a more direct approach is in order:

“Um, Victor, I need some advice for a friend.”

“A friend.”

Victor lifts a finger to his lips, thoughtful. Georgi pushes on.

“My friend is seeing more than one person at the same time. What do you think he should do?”

Victor’s eyes gleam. “Well, it depends. Did all of them agree to it?”

“What?”

 

* * *

 

“Well, that’s another theory to add to the list. Who wants to change their bet?”

 

* * *

 

“So, what do you think? Adding a third person to spice things up?” Victor suggests as his husband tries in vain to suppress his laughter.

“Oh god...I don’t think they’d be able to handle us.”

“I don’t know. What about Phichit?”

Yuuri chokes, “Phichit?” He then shoots back, “JJ.”

“No.” Victor then pauses, and goes, “I mean, who?”

“You are terrible. We went to his wedding!”

“Terrible but yours!”

 

* * *

 

Phichit has reason to believe that Yuuri has a secret admirer.

The evidence: on Yuuri’s birthday, they get a special delivery at the training rink.

“Bouquet of roses for Mr. Yuuri Katsuki,” the delivery man says politely, after apologizing for interrupting their practice. Bouquet of roses is putting it mildly, Phichit thinks as he snaps a photo. It’s closer to a mountain of roses. The poor man needs a trolley to roll it in.

“I also have a message.”

Yuuri just smiles, awfully calm for someone sent roses out of the blue, and takes the offered card. Whatever is written on it makes him blush.

And oh wow. That blush. He hasn’t seen Yuuri blush like that since that time Phichit caught him kissing his limited edition poster of Victor Nikiforov. _For good luck,_ he had stuttered. _Yeah right,_ Phichit had thought.

“A fan wanted to wish me good luck at the GPF next week,” Yuuri tries to explain, cheeks still tinged pink, card carefully stowed away in his bag. Twirling a blue rose between his fingers.  

Phichit looks at the roses, estimates how much they must have cost. A fan. Hmmm.

 

* * *

 

JJ prepares to step onto the ice for practice, tasting victory in the air. This could be his year. The year the king of the skating world is dethroned and another king rises to take his place—

The Japanese Skater, Katsuki or something, skates past and lands a flawless quadruple Flip right in front of his eyes.

His jaw drops, along with the skate guards in his hands.

Someone glides past him onto the rink, a shadow passing before his eyes. Victor Nikiforov. JJ stares with wide eyes as Victor glances at him, before turning towards the rink, as if deeming JJ unworthy of his attention.

His gaze lands on Katsuki instead. Cold, intense. Sizing up his rival. JJ swallows.

Katsuki looks back with a challenging smirk.

 

* * *

 

“Victor better not pick fights with his competition,” Yakov grouses. “I told him, you should take a look at the younger skaters, but does he listen? No. Of course not.  And now this kid pulls the quad Flip out.”

“Katsuki’s actually one of the older skaters at the Final this year.”

“They’re all kids. Irresponsible, infuriating, incomprehensible.”

 

* * *

 

Yuri hates that there’s someone with his name in the senior circuit already, but he has to admit that Yuuri Katsuki’s short program is…good. 

The intricacy of his step sequences, the beauty of his spins, and that damned quad Flip—

Yuri can’t wait to face him on the ice and defeat him. He’s going to utterly destroy Katsuki next year. And Victor, too. All of these fossils will be left in his dust.

Victor’s up next after Katsuki. When Katsuki walks past him, Victor dips his head and whispers something into his ear. Yuri tries to make out the shape of Katsuki’s mouth as he replies.

Mila chuckles next to him.

“What.”

“Oh, nothing.” She looks amused. Yuri has learned to be wary of that look on her face. “Seems like Victor has a type.”

“A what.”

“Good at skating? Christophe’s on the list, of course, and now Katsuki—”

“Oh god, stop talking now. I don’t want to know.” And then, squinting: “Is Victor blushing?”

 

* * *

 

“Isn’t this exciting?”

“Sneaking around like teenagers?” Yuuri looks over the menu as Victor giggles. “I miss Yuri’s pirozhki. I never did manage to figure out how to get the katsu in correctly—”

“Oh, Yakov’s _face_.”

“What did you do to him now.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Yuuri looks at him. Victor smiles, guilelessly. At Yuuri’s unimpressed look, he concedes, “Alright, I might have made some comments last night—”

 

* * *

 

“Yuuri Katsuki of Japan has overtaken your score tonight. Do you have anything you want to share with us and those who are watching the Final tonight in Russia?”

“Oh, I’m looking forward to defeating Yuuri in the free skate,” Victor goes.

Yakov nods approvingly behind him. “We have confidence in Victor’s program.” 

“Oh, but what a beautiful skater Yuuri is! Why, when he goes into the Ina Bauer—”

“Vitya.”

“—and that quad Flip. It’s considered my signature move of course, but oh, what a wonder Yuuri’s stamina is—”

“Vitya!”

“Viewers in Russia, I hope you support us again on Saturday!” Victor smiles brightly, and winks to the camera. The reporters are dazzled, and probably the viewers too. Idiots blinded by _this idiot._

Yakov needs a vacation.

 

* * *

 

They have a public viewing of the GPF at their inn, open to anyone in Hasetsu. It’s great for business. Strange as it is to think about, her brother is probably the closest they have to a local celebrity.

Minako sighs into her beer. “If only I could be there.”

“You can go next time.”

Minako looks at the screen and snaps backwards. “Hiroko! Toshiya! Your son’s on!”

Everyone goes quiet. Her parents run out of the kitchen. Mari sits and pulls out a cigarette.

“ _This is a pretty strong season for Competitor Katsuki.”_ The camera zooms into her brother’s focused face. And hmm. That’s a smirk, isn’t it. _“He's known to suffer from nerves during competitions, but he looks remarkably calm today.”_

Vicchan barks from where he’s being spoiled by the triplets, recognizing Yuuri’s face.

She suddenly remembers something Yuuri asked her, back in August or September:

“Mari-neesan,” he said through her phone screen. “Could you do me a favor?”

Yuuri never asks for favors. He would rather take the weight of the world on his own shoulders than ask anyone for help. Trying to get him to talk about his problems is like trying to pull teeth. So she knew this had to be something serious.

She braced herself, and asked: “What is it?”

“On December 4th, could you make sure Vicchan doesn’t go out?”

“December 4th,” she repeated, slowly. “Vicchan.”

“Yeah.” 

“Any particular reason it has to be December 4th?”

He told her that he had a dream that something would happen to Vicchan, and that he knows it’s silly but it’s close to the GPF, so if she could—

“I got it, I got it. I’ll make sure he’s safe at home.”

He smiled, and thanked her, and said he loved her and that _You’re the best sister I could have asked for_.

She was left blinking blankly at her dark phone screen at this uncharacteristic display of emotional affection.

Other things she’s noticed:

Every time Vicchan enters the screen during their weekly video chats, trying to find the source of Yuuri’s voice, Yuuri’s eyes get suspiciously wet.

Yuuri keeps hinting at their father to exercise more, inserting it so seamlessly into their conversations that their father thinks his daily runs are his own idea.

His shoulders are less tense, and he smiles more easily than he usually does.

“ _What a beautiful performance by Japan’s Ace!”_ Everyone in the inn cheers. Mari smiles.

She doesn’t know what happened to her brother, but she supposes the changes aren’t so bad.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other stories offer you a full course meal with soup and salad. I offer you a candy bar.
> 
> Again, thanks for reading and do leave a comment if you liked it!
> 
> (I am definitely surprised at how many people are liking this silly, ridiculous thing haha but glad to have you along for the ride!)
> 
> Small edit: added detail of roses being blue, idea credit to jokershipper


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of the GPF and fun at the banquet. Yakov and Yuri could probably form a club.

Christophe wishes the Final this year wasn’t in Sochi. It’s awfully cold, and the only Russian he’s ever picked up isn’t exactly what one would use in polite conversation.

He gazes out of the restaurant window with a sigh, before his eyes catch on someone familiar—

“So that’s why he didn’t want to grab dinner. What a scoundrel.”

“Chris?”

He turns back to his coach with a smile. “It’s nothing.”

 

* * *

 

“Wow, I haven’t seen Victor skate like that in a while,” Mila observes.

Yuri hums in agreement, but keeps his eyes focused on the ice. Victor has made changes this time, he notes—pushing the difficulty of his program more than he has earlier in the season.

“Well, we both know why he’s so motivated today—”

“Mila.”

“I texted Georgi yesterday, some people are changing their bets—”

“I don’t care!”

From Mila’s other side, Sala pipes, interested: “What bet?”

Mila turns to her with a bright, conspiratorial smile.

He really should’ve watched this from somewhere else.

 

* * *

 

Nikiforov smirks as he steps off the ice and passes them on the way to the Kiss & Cry. Celestino frowns and claps Yuuri on the back.

“Don’t worry Yuuri, you can beat him with your program.”

“I know, Coach.” Yuuri smiles and hands Celestino his skate guards. “I’ll do my best.”

 

* * *

 

Christophe’s satisfied with his score, which will put him solidly on the podium, but—

He watches as Yuuri nails a beautiful combination jump. “Bronze this year, huh.”

Yuuri’s different this season. And it’s not just his skating.

Christophe’s seen Yuuri at other competitions over the years, but they’ve rarely talked. Yuuri’s always been quiet and reserved, the kind of skater that stays in their own head during competition.

He was surprised when Yuuri wished him good luck after practice a few days ago, with an easy smile, eyes clear and shoulders relaxed. Christophe had winked flirtatiously, and wished him good luck back.

Yuuri didn’t blush. Christophe wonders if he’s losing his touch.

He glanced at the other competitors on the ice afterwards. Cao Bin, always unflappable. JJ, seemingly panicking. And Victor, oh Victor.

He had never seen that expression before on Victor’s face.

 

* * *

 

Phichit watches the GPF men’s free skate with the other skaters under Celestino. They pack into his and Yuuri’s small suite with illegally acquired beer and legally acquired pizza, squeeze onto a small sofa and sprawl over the floor.

They’re all full and half-drunk when Yuuri finally comes up on the screen.

“That costume looks so good on him,” one of the younger skaters goes, to the agreeing hums and dreamy sighs of the rest of the room.

Costumes with tapered waists really do show off Yuuri’s assets.

“And oh gosh, when he slicks his hair back, and goes all intense….you know?”

Phichit knows.

“And his step sequence here gets me, every single time.”

Yuuri probably doesn’t notice, but their rinkmates have a habit of coincidentally “going on break” when Yuuri practices his programs in order to watch him.

Everyone gasps when Yuuri falls on a jump.

But he gets back up again. Nails his next jump. Everyone sighs in relief.

Phichit smiles. _Next year, I’ll be there on that ice with him._

 

* * *

 

After Yuuri finishes his free skate, everyone in the Yutopia dining room keeps their eyes glued to the television screen. Minako, half-buzzed from the alcohol, watches as the camera pans to Yuuri and his coach sitting at the Kiss & Cry.

The score is announced.

Everyone cheers. Toshiya proudly declares that the next round of drinks will be on him. Yuuko pulls out her phone to congratulate Yuuri, her triplets hanging off her arms, going _Mama, Mama, we want to skate like Uncle Yuuri._

Minako chuckles at the determined set of Yuuri’s brows as he reads his score. “Not quite satisfied yet, is he?”

Mari gives an amused hum as she places another beer in front of her. “That idol of his should watch out.”

 

* * *

 

"Silver again, hmmm?"

"What, not going to kiss silver?"

 

* * *

 

 

Victor spends a ridiculous amount of time staring into the silver medalist’s eyes after the award ceremony.

Yakov’s not blind. Victor’s been giving Katsuki challenging looks the entire night. He wonders, not for the first time, if he pushed Victor too hard when he was young and ruined him for interacting with his competitors in a sane and reasonable way.

At least they’re in a private hallway restricted to competitors and staff, and not on the rink itself. One wrong move in front of a camera could ruin an athlete's career.

Yakov’s almost afraid Victor’s about to do something like punch Katsuki and is about to drag him off when his student pushes the man against a wall and proceeds to—

To kiss him. Passionately.

Yakov really doesn’t need to see this. He has always maintained a distance from his students’ personal lives and this is _much too close._

Katsuki maintains a grip on Victor’s jacket collar after they separate, gasping. He pulls Victor in by his medal, and whispers something into his ear before releasing him and walking away.

Victor stares after him, dazed and blushing.

Giacometti whistles. Katsuki’s coach mumbles an apology and follows after his student, wide-eyed.

Yakov really, really needs a vacation.

 

* * *

 

**Phichit**

          Did you see this???

**_Vniki-fan1225_ **

                    [Image]

                    [Image]

                    Is it just me or is it getting hot in here

                    #awardceremony #GPF

          Oh my god???

          Victor’s so close to you

          Do you need to tell me sth

          lol

          Congrats btw

 

* * *

 

Mila and Sala arrive to the banquet after a day of sightseeing around Sochi. After sharing the podium together so many times over the years, it’s become a tradition.

“It’s nice, sometimes, to get away from my brother,” Sala sighs as they spot Michele in the banquet hall.

And then, glancing behind Mila: “Hey, isn’t that Victor and Yuuri?”

Mila looks. Victor and Yuuri are talking near the entrance, heads angled towards each other. After a moment, they separate.

Victor waves as he heads towards….hmm, Christophe Giacometti? Giacometti greets him with something that makes him laugh.

“Interesting.”

 

* * *

 

Yuri’s forced into a scratchy suit and dragged into a hall full of adults drinking champagne and making boring small talk.

The rest of the junior skaters don’t have to do this. He’s just special because _I need to keep an eye on you, who knows the trouble you could get into alone._

He’s going to take it as an opportunity to study next season’s competition. From the corner, where he can eat off the buffet table and be left in peace.

“Oh, Yuri?”

He looks up to see Katsuki. His eyes narrow in warning, but Katsuki just smiles brightly, as if they know each other or something.

“What are you doing here?”

“Grabbing a glass of champagne.” And then he proceeds to do just that. Yuri turns back to his food but Katsuki doesn’t leave.

He glances at Katsuki again. He doesn’t look like much off the ice. Kinda mousy, timid. Yuri’s disappointed. He was expecting...something. Something more than this.

“Congrats on gold! Your free program was great,” Katsuki says just when Yuri starts eating again. “You’re going to give me and Victor trouble when you make your senior debut.”

“Of course!” Of course he’s good enough to make them worried. And then, “You were watching?”

Katsuki’s eyes are warm. “Of course.”

 

* * *

 

“Not even for old time’s sake?”

Yuuri shakes his head at the childish expression on his husband’s face. Glances at the pole again. “No.”

Then he dips him, and well, Victor doesn’t mention the pole again after that.

 

* * *

 

Yuri takes in their loosened ties, the flush on their faces. People are watching. There are phones out. And they’re just laughing, as if they don’t care. Yakov’s probably going to have an aneurysm.

“What are you two doing.”

Victor, flippantly: “Oh, dancing.”

“ _I’m drunk_ ,” Katsuki chimes in cheerfully. “ _So drunk._ ”

“You’ve only had a single flute of champagne.” And then, "Wait. You know Russian?"

Katsuki finishes the champagne in his hand. “Two now.” He glances at Yuri consideringly. “Dance battle?”

Yuri looks at him in disbelief. Christophe Giacometti pops in out of nowhere. “Did someone say dance battle?”

 

* * *

 

Phichit has an alert on his phone set up for mentions of the GPF, Victor Nikiforov, and Yuuri Katsuki. The last one understandably gets less mentions than the first two.

Well, usually.

“Photos from the GPF banquet?” He clicks the link. “Oh Yuuri!”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay haha, started a new part time job which drained both my energy and free time.
> 
> Thanks for all of your lovely kudos and comments, I treasure each one! (And do comment if you liked anything in particular here!)


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